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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29728530">I’ll Follow You (Around The World)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexbatch/pseuds/vexbatch'>vexbatch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reverse Prompt, Traveling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:53:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29728530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexbatch/pseuds/vexbatch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley and Aziraphale meet up, sometime before the end of the world, to have a coffee. </p>
<p><b>Kisses Bingo: Pinkies Linked</b><br/>This also serves as a fill for the <a href="https://reverseprompts.tumblr.com/post/636796002228174848/reverseprompts-reverse-prompt-challenge-10">Reverse Prompt Challenge!</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Kisses Bingo, Reverse Prompt Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I’ll Follow You (Around The World)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With a <em> whuff </em>of displaced air, a lanky figure appeared behind the corner of a bodega, somewhere in New York City. </p>
<p>It was the demon Crowley; of course it was.</p>
<p>He dusted his jacket off unnecessarily before swaggering off in a random direction. He wasn't set to meet Aziraphale for another couple of hours, but there was always some trouble to be rustled up on the streets of New York. Crowley had just spotted an abandoned suitcase and was preparing to nab it to stash in one of the abandoned buildings that frequented by squatters when he noticed something…..odd.</p>
<p>That scarf…...it <em> couldn't </em> be, they were just popping in together at Grand Central in an hour or so, there was no reason for Aziraphale to be wandering the streets of the city alone….</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>But there on the sidewalk was his angel's scarf, blown off of the suitcase, and a passport as well. Crowley blinked, bending down to snatch the silk before it could be ruined and poking through the passport curiously. There were airline tickets sticking out of the top, and stamps from Thailand, Chile, Romania, France, the Philippines….</p>
<p>A bright, familiar voice interrupted his perusal as Aziraphale called out, "ah! Thank you, I must've set it down for only a second; I swear if lose my head if-"</p>
<p>Crowley looked up, holding back a grin to see the astonishment on his angel's face when he finally recognized who was holding the passport. "Crowley! We weren't meeting until four, I thought! And down at Grand Central Station too." </p>
<p>Crowley didn't have a chance to respond before he was pulled into a hug, so tight and warm that it chased the lonely feeling that had been lingering in his bones for the past few weeks. By the time Aziraphale pulled away, Crowley had forgotten himself so much that he was smiling, dazed as he gazed into those blue eyes, so light and yet the darkest part of that face, so soft and loving…</p>
<p>There was a hand on his cheek as Aziraphale looked back at him, and <em> that </em> is what reminded Crowley where he was, <em> who </em> he was, the voice of Hastur and Beelz and Ligur and the centuries old taunts of the angels who hadn't fallen. Crowley jerked back, and he knew his face had shuttered closed by the hurt, pouting look on Aziraphale's face….but that was the way of their lives.</p>
<p>He took a step back, holding out the scarf and passport. "Why're you taking planes when you could just <em> miracle </em> to wherever you’re going?” he bit out, more harsh than he meant, but that was probably for the best.</p>
<p>“Well, I met this lovely woman in Brisbane who was going on about how much she loved plane rides. She said it was something of a liminal space, which is supposed to be this everyday magical phenomena that occurs when you’re in between places, especially when you’re travelling.” Aziraphale’s hands were flying as he spoke, and Crowley tried very hard not to find it entirely endearing. “Well, I figured we don’t get much of a chance to try that sort of thing with the miracling, so I thought I would see what all the fuss was about! I have to say, Crowley, it was really rather enjoyable, though I think I would rather like to try a road trip next.”</p>
<p>Crowley quirked an eyebrow, letting some of the hurt flicker onto his face. “So this is what it takes to get you on a road trip? One word from a woman in Brisbane? Heaven forbid you come with me in the <em> decades </em> that I’ve been driving around.”</p>
<p>“Oh come now Crowley, it was nothing personal,” Aziraphale retorted, voice light and airy. “We can never be too vigilant with Heaven and Hell watching over our shoulders at any time.”</p>
<p>Crowley just raised his other eyebrow. Were they not, right that very minute, tempting fate? Ridiculous.</p>
<p>Somehow, enough of his disdain got through though, because Aziraphale slumped almost immediately, looking ashamed. “I know, you’re right, we’re together <em> now </em>, and before….I guess I….Well, I was scared you didn’t want to go with me.”</p>
<p>Crowley stared at him. The angel stayed slumped, staring down at his shoes as Crowley tried to process how in <em> Hell </em> Aziraphale could've come to the conclusion that Crowley didn't want him in his Bentley. As far as Crowley was concerned, that was where Aziraphale belonged: right next to Crowley.</p>
<p>Not that he could say that.</p>
<p>Completely failing to come up with a rational explanation, Crowley shook the passport again as he replied, "then you're more of a fool than I thought you were. Come on, let's go grab a biscuit."</p>
<p>Finally looking up again, Aziraphale cast a curious, hopeful glance at Crowley, but the demon just sniffed, staring off into traffic. It wouldn't do to be getting all moon-eyed in <em> public </em>, just because some angel was brooding. </p>
<p>Nevermind that Aziraphale wasn't just <em> some angel </em>.</p>
<p>Once Aziraphale was mildly more put together, they continued to stroll down the road, only getting about a block and a half before Crowley was snarling at the crowd, Aziraphale laughing beside him. Crowley considered just miracling them to the train station, but....well, he did rather enjoy the company. And Aziraphale's laugh struck something hopeful inside himself that Crowley desperately wanted to hold onto.</p>
<p>Soon enough, they were sitting in the Grand Central food court, Aziraphale happily munching on his biscuits while Crowley glowered at anyone who strayed too close to their table. As Crowley scanned the area again, Aziraphale shook his head and set down his biscuits. “Stop glaring the world to death and drink your milkshake, Crowley.”</p>
<p>Crowley rolled his eyes, but picked up the drink obligingly. “It’s not a <em> milkshake, </em>” he spat before taking a long sip. “It’s a smoothie.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale opened his mouth to continue, but a look of concern crossed his face and he leaned forward, studying the cup. “Is that one of those noxious things that Dr. Sable had a hand in?”</p>
<p>Frowning down, Crowley tried to remember who Dr. Sable was. He had been some sort of nutrition expert, but Hell had a dossier on him….<em> Ah. Right. </em> “No, I’m not drinking one of Famine’s products, though I appreciate your concern for my well being. You <em> do </em> know we don’t actually need to consume, right?”</p>
<p>“Didn’t stop you that time in Paris.”</p>
<p>“You’d been jailed! I thought you’d want a spot of lunch to, I don’t know, process the trauma or something.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale shook his head, but there was a smile playing on his lips, and Crowley thought for approximately the three million, seventy three hundred and eighth time about kissing those lips, about how that might feel, about the noise his angel would make….</p>
<p>“–ley? Crowley?”</p>
<p>“Hmm, what?”</p>
<p>“You wandered off there for a minute. Have I got crumbs on myself or something?” Aziraphale looked down adorably, brushing at his waistcoat, and Crowley couldn’t resist a smile.</p>
<p>“No, you’re fine, angel,” and, dammit, he needed to not get in the habit of calling him <em> angel </em> like that, in that sappy voice. “I was just– nevermind. When did you need to leave again?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale sent a critical eye over Crowley, and it was in that moment that he remembered just how inconveniently <em> perceptive </em> Aziraphale could be. But the angel just nodded once before shuffling through the papers tucked into his bag. Just as something looking suspiciously like a passport slipped out, someone bumped into the back of Aziraphale’s chair with an <em> “oof” </em> and the passport, along with the tickets stuffed inside, went flying. </p>
<p>There was a flurry of apologies between the human and angel, but Crowley just glared briefly at them before flicking his hand, miracling a passerby to kick it back over, allowing Crowley to bend and pick it up. </p>
<p>He peeked at the ticket as Aziraphale said goodbye, confirming that they had another few minutes before they needed to get to the platform. </p>
<p>Aziraphale reached across to take his passport back, meanwhile hissing, “you really <em> shouldn’t </em> do that with so many people around.”</p>
<p>Crowley rolled his eyes again, slouching back in the seat. “It’s not like anyone would notice, <em> especially </em> in New York City. Come on, surely you know how oblivious they are here. I didn’t even need to cast a See No Evil!”</p>
<p>“Still,” Aziraphale insisted, but Crowley could see the smile teasing around the edges of his lips.</p>
<p>“Oh, you like it when I’m bad,” Crowley smirked. “That’s my whole deal anyway; I’m here to <em> tempt, </em> remember?”</p>
<p>“Don’t think that was supposed to mean about tempting <em> angels, </em>” Aziraphale mumbled, and the flush that spread across the angel’s cheeks gave life to a spark of joy in his chest. Crowley let out a laugh, grinning across the table.</p>
<p>“Do you not like it when I tempt you, darling?”</p>
<p>Watching Aziraphale try to straighten his spine and find a moral high ground was <em> far </em> too entertaining, Crowley decided. “I’d be a good deal less worried  if you weren’t so <em> good </em>at it. Tempt many angels, hmm? Suppose you’ve had a lot of practice.”</p>
<p>“Nah,” he dismissed with a flick of his hand, “really just the one.”</p>
<p>There was a sparkle in Azriaphale’s eye, and Crowley knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Hell, he was barely fooling himself. “Sounds like you might be sweet on an angel.”</p>
<p>Crowley reached for his normal grumbling response, but it chose that <em> specific </em> moment to fail him, leaving him only with the warm, glowing feeling that Aziraphale inevitably inspired within him. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Crowley grabbed for his smoothie again, only to find it empty. He set the cup back down, feeling...nervous and fidgety and entirely un-demonic.</p>
<p>Fortunately, at that precise moment an announcement came through, nearly unintelligible but with just enough context to let Crowley know that Aziraphale should really get moving. “Ah,” Aziraphale said, “that would be me. Would you like to accompany me to the foyer?”</p>
<p>Crowley cast an indulgent eye over Aziraphale before standing. “I really don’t think it’s called a foyer when it’s in a train station, Aziraphale.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense! It’s an entrance hall of sorts, isn’t it?” Aziraphale stood himself, folding up his trash and taking Crowley’s for good measure. “That’s what a foyer <em> is, </em> my dear misguided Crowley.”</p>
<p>And Crowley just barely managed to keep down the flush at being called <em> Aziraphale’s. </em> Really now, when had he become such a sap for this kind of attention? No, he must have been holding back a flush of <em> frustration, </em> that was all. “Well, whatever it’s called, it makes more sense to walk with you than to go any other way. Have you seen what they’ve done with the ceiling in it though?”</p>
<p>They continued through the crowds, discussing the recent touch-up of the foyer-not-a-foyer, and the inconsistencies of train schedules, and whether Crowley’s associates had anything to do with it, and how terribly romantic the idea of trans-continental travel was.</p>
<p>Aziraphale had just brought up that last point when they hit the middle of the foyer-not-a-foyer, and he had turned to face Crowley, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from the angel. “W-what about romance?” Crowley stumbled over the words, trying very hard not to think about the word <em> romantic </em> going anywhere near his thoughts of Aziraphale.</p>
<p>Aziraphale just gave him a patient smile. “I said,” and why was he lowering his voice like that, “it’s quite romantic in here, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>“Oh? Hmm.” Crowley hummed noncommittally, eyes flicking back and forth between Aziraphale and anything but Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“Crowley,” and there was a new thread in the angel’s voice, something that sounded suspiciously like <em> want </em>. A hand brushed against his own, and Crowley looked down, feeling dumb and slow as he saw Aziraphale’s pinky interlinked with his.There was a hand on his face, gently tilting until his gaze met Aziraphale’s blue eyes once more. “Crowley, may I kiss you?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” The whispered word was out before Crowley could think about it, before he could second-guess himself, and then Aziraphale’s lips were on his and everything <em> shifted. </em></p>
<p>It felt like flying, a millennia ago when he was still able to use his now-ruined wings.</p>
<p>It felt like the best parts of telling someone you could make their dreams come true.</p>
<p>It felt like a secret confided.</p>
<p>It felt like this angel was <em> his, </em> wholly and truly, and no one could ever separate them.</p>
<p>Crowley finally remembered that he had arms, and at the ends of those arms, hands, so he moved them, one hand gently coming around the back of Aziraphale’s head to gently tug at those white curls, the other snaking around Aziraphale’s waist and <em> pulling </em> the angel to him. </p>
<p>Aziraphale let out a little <em> “oof” </em>that Crowley swallowed down, not willing to let go of his angel now that this had happened. He never wanted to break this moment.</p>
<p>But of course, humanity had a different idea. Someone knocked into them with a harried “sorry” thrown over a shoulder. Aziraphale stumbled into Crowley, and they stood there for a moment, holding each other, before Aziraphale started laughing.</p>
<p>“What?” Crowley had gotten quite used to humans appreciating his kissing, among other things, over the centuries, and rather prided himself on being able to take other’s breath away, not being the cause of ridicule. “Was it really that bad?”</p>
<p>“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped for a moment, catching his breath before continuing. “No, no dearest. Only, your <em> eyes, </em> the look in them is rather….”</p>
<p>As Aziraphale trailed off, Crowley realized that he had let the glamour over his eyes drop, so that his slitted pupils shone through. With a blink they were covered again.</p>
<p>“Yes, well. That too I suppose,” Aziraphale continued, rather nonsensically to Crowley’s ears. “But what I meant was how adorably <em> protective </em> you get.”</p>
<p>Crowley blinked. He did it again. Aziraphale was still standing there, with that self-satisfied smirk, like he had just discovered something lovely and was keeping it all to himself. </p>
<p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p>
<p>“It’s the least I can do, when you kiss like that,” Crowley retorted, trying to pull some haughtiness about himself, but one smirk from Aziraphale told Crowley that they both knew it was a fabrication. “Where did you learn to kiss like that, anyway?”</p>
<p>“No idea what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale replied with a smirk, but then he was leaning in again and they were kissing and nothing else really mattered after that.</p>
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